


if i had a crown

by christinahosetti



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Canon Universe, F/M, Flashbacks, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Resentment, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinahosetti/pseuds/christinahosetti
Summary: "Go," she says, and who is he to refuse his princess?
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	if i had a crown

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated.

The voice in the shrine where he awakens calls him _Link_. It makes him want to run.

So he does.

The morning air of the Great Plateau is far too chilled for one clad in just underwear, but he doesn't realise this until a split second after he hits blinding sunlight, and by then it's too late. He has forgotten the cold, but the cold hasn't forgotten him. It only gives him a few moments’ grace before it worms its way into his bones to the point where it's unbearable. There's an old man sat tending to a fire beneath a rock overhang, far down the hill. Link stumbles his way towards him, feral and half naked. His legs give out as soon as he reaches him; and he falls to his knees before the flames, muscles aching, bones feeling as though they are on the verge of shattering.

The old man looks upon his shivering form with something akin to pity. He asks no questions, which Link is glad of, since he has no answers. He gives Link a shirt and trousers and a thick velvet doublet that all somehow fit him perfectly. They sit together as day melts into night, devouring sweet hot baked apples and roasted nuts. Link slowly relearns how to build and light a fire, how to draw a bow, how to skin a deer.

The next morning he is sent across the plateau to collect shrines and absorb the power of runes. It all seems like it should be impossible, yet here he lifts great hunks of metal with ease and manipulates water into ice with his bare hands. He wonders if this magic has always been brimming under his skin, waiting for this moment to burst free. The old man tells him he’s a warrior, and that the runes will help him on his journey. Link finds he has many questions at the tip of his tongue, but for now, he holds his peace and does what the old man asks of him.

As night falls on the second day, Link finds himself scouring the ruined walls of the Temple of Time, his patience wearing thin with the old man's silence and benign smile. He clambers onto the roof, and he's already there waiting for him, of course, cloaked in the shadow of the bell tower.

"My soldier," the man greets him. "I wanted to give you something." He holds out a large, faded square of cloth, attached crudely to two wooden poles.

Link scoffs. "A paraglider. Is that it?"

"Yes," says the old man placidly, "I think you shall find it quite useful. On your journey."

"And do I have any choice in whether or not I want to go on this journey?"

The old man smiles at him, but his eyes are sad. "I'm afraid not, Link. But if it helps, you never had a choice."

Link doesn't know what that means, or why it would help.

"You have had this conversation many times before," the old man continues, "with many different people. And I suspect you shall have it many times again. But right now, you are having it with me." He pauses. "You remember Princess Zelda, don't you?"

_Zelda_. The name tugs on his heart, an aching familiarity he can't quite place. He shakes his head no.

The old man sighs, like he expected as much. "Zelda... was my daughter. And, for a time, she was your charge."

Link blinks. "Was? She's dead?"

"I pray her death will be for a long time coming. No, it is I who is dead, Link. The shell of the man you see before you was once King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule." The old man pulls down his hood, revealing a glorious mane of white hair and a hard glitter in his eye. Link has to take a moment to comprehend. _Dead?_ The king seemed to be made of flesh and bone much like himself; Link had heard the wind rustle his beard, the hard smack of his axe against a tree. Maybe he has it all wrong. Maybe he's dead too, but he hasn't realised it yet, and his long sleep in the Shrine was Limbo and now he's in the afterlife, doomed to run in circles around the Great Plateau forever and ever.

The king takes his shoulder, sensing his mind drifting. His grip is firm and warm. "If you don't remember the princess, you won't remember me. How far the mighty fall." He smiles wistfully. "One hundred years ago, I would have fed you to a Lynel for your insolence."

_Lynel_. Man-horse-lion- _beast_. In a sudden flash, he sees the grey walls of the Coliseum. Hears the thunder of applause and the jeers of the crowd. He is stood, hand wrapped tightly around a spear, body weighted down with heavy armour. The monster, teal-skinned and snarling, is brandishing the decapitated head of some unlucky prisoner. The sand of the arena is streaked with blood. King Rhoam, in all his living glory, sits high up in his seat, his mouth open in a gleeful roar. On his right is a young blonde woman in a blue dress. She’s clapping along with the rest of them, but her mouth is set in a hard line, and her eyes burn right into his.

A jolt sends him back to reality, and to the king standing before him. Who would have thought such a kindly smile could be capable of such cruelty? For cruelty’s sake, no less. And to think he served this man once.

“I don’t owe you anything,” he says, still seeing the severed head and the girl’s pleading green eyes. He wants to go back, step into the memory. Reach out to her and take her hand.

“No, soldier, you don’t. Not anymore.” The king’s expression remains genial, but his eyes are narrowed slightly. “But you do owe Zelda.”

“In what way?”

“In every way,” says the king. “In ways you cannot possibly comprehend.”


End file.
